


Homecoming

by LilyAmelia



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Season 3 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2346047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyAmelia/pseuds/LilyAmelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She walks in - a little rattled, a little shaken, but safe - and David’s heart jump starts again.<br/>One-shot, S3 finale, CS-ness and Daddy Charming a plenty!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably be working on Diamond in the Rough, but Daddy Charming supporting Captain Swan gives me life, so here you go. Plus, Charming is my spirit animal. Set at the end of S3’s finale.

She walks in - a little rattled, a little shaken, but _safe_ \- and David’s heart jump-starts again. His chest constricts as she pulls them into a tight embrace. He leans his cheek against her hair and holds the back of her head like he’s always done. It’s second nature now, a reflex. He wills his heart to slow down - his baby girl is safe, she’s here with them - and all of his worries evaporate, to be replaced with an almost overwhelming relief.

Just when his heart returns to its (relatively?) normal size, Emma says the words they’ve all hoped would one day leave her lips. ‘ _I’m home.’_ She turns her green eyes and looks at them, first Mary Margaret, then him, and when _‘Dad’_ comes out, he can hardly believe it. There’s a loud, blissful laugh lodged deep in his chest but he’s afraid it might break the spell, so he settles for the biggest smile he can muster instead as his hand, like clockwork, finds its place at the back of her head.

He’s not sure what just happened, but he’ll take it.

They sit down in their usual booth, baby Neal’s _Congratulations_ banner rustling softly above their heads (they still have to tell her his name) before she sets the storybook on the table and announces (is that a hint of pride he detects?) that she’s officially a fairytale princess. She laughs at their dumbfounded expressions and proceeds to tell them everything that happened after she fell through the portal with Hook.

It hits David like a punch in the gut how close he was to losing his daughter again and he wants to shout - to point out her irresponsibility, the complete _madness_ of her decision - but stops himself. Because there’s a sparkle in her eyes, a flitting smile that’s been playing on her lips ever since she came into the diner, and that sight is so rare he just wants to make sure it stays intact for as long as possible.

Besides, she was with Hook. For all his reservations about the man (not that many, to be honest - most of them stemming from the simple fact that _no one_ was good enough for Emma, anyway), he believes that Hook would rather die than let something happen to her. 

When she starts recounting the ball - the lights, the music, the people, the _clothes_ \- and when she explains how they surveilled their surroundings while dancing (he doesn’t fail to notice the faint sprinkle of pink that begins to spread across the impossibly high cheekbones she inherited from her mother), David allows himself to resent the dark-haired captain. Just for a little while.

Because he was there for Emma when he, David, couldn’t.

Because _he_ should have been Emma’s first dance (he still remembers those nightmares from Neverland, all about wrong choices and lost chances), _he_ should have given her her first ball gown (not _Rumplestiltskin. Jeez.)_ and _he_ should have been the one to protect her when she needed it.

Worst of all, he _should_ have recognized his own daughter. It didn’t matter if it was another timeline, if she had a different face, if she wasn’t born yet, if she wasn’t supposed to exist at that moment (he can’t - and never will - wrap his head around the thought of Emma _not existing_ ). She is his flesh and blood, his child, and the fact that his past self had not known that instinctively- it horrified (horri _fies_ ) him.

She doesn’t say it in so many words, of course she doesn’t, but he sees the subtle signs - her strained smile, the tiny clench of her jaw, the way her voice quivers for a fraction of a second as she finishes her sentence. It hurt Emma, too.

He thinks he’s starting to know his daughter by now.

As she reaches the end of her tale, Emma skims over the last details about a wand, her magic suddenly working and their rough landing outside the barn. There’s an evasiveness, an airiness in her words and shrugs that contrast with her usual direct manner. David suspects she’s hiding something from them, but doesn’t push (how can he, when she’s looking at them once again with such _fondness_ ). She’ll tell them when she’s ready.

Brusquely, she flips the table on them with adorable eagerness, and demands to know her brother’s name. It’s time for the whole town (almost - someone’s missing) to welcome Prince Neal. Emma’s face softens as she grabs hold of her little brother’s hand, and David firmly believes that the scene is one of the most breathtaking he’s ever witnessed. If they never return to the Enchanted Forest, if they never get their kingdom back, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest. He has his family here in Storybrooke, he doesn’t need anything else.

Emma suddenly looks around, brow furrowed, fingers twitching against the plastic booth seat, and David knows who she’s looking for. So when she disappears for a while, after excusing herself with a quick ‘ _be right back’_ , he doesn’t think twice about it. 

When they both enter the diner twenty minutes later, the soft jingle of the doorbell almost imperceptible amidst the hubbub of their guests, his gaze automatically turns to them. It takes him a while to notice his face hurts - or more specifically his cheeks - and another few moments before he realizes it’s because he’s smiling so wide. He probably shouldn’t: something has changed between them. They’re standing a little too close, shoulder to shoulder, the back of their hands brushing and he’s not stupid, he catches the way their fingers are searching for each other. 

But it’s the first time he’s seen Emma look so... happy.

A substantial part of him wants to believe it’s solely down to Emma accepting herself, embracing her family. He knows better though, and curiously, he’s fine with that. He isn’t blind, he’s seen the way the two interact (exchanging looks, seeking the other’s opinion or reassurance without voicing a word - the two of them have a whole language to themselves and he’s certain they aren’t even aware of it). And Hook has played more than a bit part in breaking down Emma’s walls. The man isn’t afraid to push and provoke, forcing Emma to face both facts and feelings she otherwise brushes aside.

He’s a pirate, both in profession and in code - not following anyone’s rules but his own, and fully willing to accept the consequences that ensue. He fights to break her walls down, and if it means getting hit by the resulting crumbling rocks, well it’s a price he’s willing to pay. And that’s what Emma has always needed. Someone willing to fight for her. David respects - and yeah, even admires - him for it. Plus, to be honest, Hook’s general air of irreverence and exasperation - not to mention that _sass_ \- sort of make him laugh.

Emma could do worse (it pains him to know she actually has).

The duo approach the bar, and as Emma climbs onto a stool, she tugs on the pirate’s sleeve and whispers into his ear. He smiles and wags a finger in front of her face before tapping her on the nose with it. She swats it away and gives him a gentle shove, shaking her head in amusement as Hook heads towards Ruby. Her smile doesn’t leave her face.

When the leather-clad man returns to his seat moments later (he really does stand out against Granny’s pastel wallpaper), he looks over to their corner. Catching his gaze, David lifts his bottle. Swiftly concealing his surprise, the captain nods once and raises the two drinks in his hand. His hook disappears behind his ear in a familiar gesture and he turns his focus back to Emma. David grins.

Fine, yeah, he actually likes the guy.

"So, _that’s_ happening any day now." Mary Margaret remains focused on their baby, but she slides a glance in his direction as she buries herself a little deeper in the crook of his arm. "Would you approve?"

David lets out a short laugh because he suddenly remembers a conversation on a log, an implicit blessing. "We’d be crazy not to," he smiles at her bemused expression, and drops a kiss onto her temple. _It’s already happened, sweetheart, and there’s absolutely nothing we can do about it_. "Besides, have you actually seen this family of ours? What’s another scoundrel at the dinner table?" _If he makes Emma happy?_

It’s taken the three of them almost thirty years, and they’ve come so close to losing each other for good more times than he cared to count ( _No,_ his heart screams, _I’ll always find them)._ The few times they’ve been all together, something was always in their way - missing memories, stray portals, abandonment issues.

He sees Emma now, mingling with the people of Storybrooke, shaking her head at Grumpy’s bad jokes and making bets with Ruby about Neal’s future nicknames. She even tries to help the unfamiliar woman they’ve brought back join in the conversation. As if she could hear his thoughts, Emma turns around and shoots him a brilliant smile - one that makes the corners of her startling green eyes crinkle - and his cheeks start hurting again.

He doesn’t care, though.

His daughter is finally home.


End file.
